


it was just a cut

by d_e_s



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, inFAMOUS: Second Son
Genre: M/M, and goes to live with delsin instead of dealing with the assassin order anymore, au where desmond lives, au where desmond survived juno's orb, good karma ending delsin, this is nothing but them being domestic and fluffy for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_e_s/pseuds/d_e_s
Summary: after stopping the end of the world, desmond finally gets the chance he deserves to live with delsin. life isn't the easiest for the pair--especially after delsin lost reggie to augustine--but they're learning how to live together. in this short, delsin finally asks a question he's been meaning to ask ever since meeting desmond: how'd he get the scar on his face? domestic cuddles and fluff.





	it was just a cut

desmond miles didn’t like talking about himself. he didn’t like talking about his time at the Farm, and about how his dad had fucked up any chance he’d had at having a childhood. he didn’t like talking about how he’d quite literally run away at sixteen and cut ties with his family, and he definitely didn’t like talking about the time he’d spent with the assassin order and the many ways it had fucked him up. when he was asked questions about those times, he diverted. he talked about happy memories, such as what it had been like moving into the city after being in rural hell for so long. he talked about how he’d been overwhelmed by the sheer size of the buildings in the city, and how he’d felt absolutely swallowed by the crowd, but he wouldn’t talk about how he struggled to adapt to city life after living in the quiet for so long and how the noise had kept him up until late at night. he talked about how he’d stumbled into becoming a bartender, but he didn’t talk about those years before when he had to do anything and everything to survive.

he didn’t talk about it partially because nobody asked. when he had been with the assassin order, his job had been simple: get in the animus, and find the artifacts to stop the templars. stop the templars had quickly turned into him having to stop the end of the world, which he had done, though it had nearly cost him his life. when he’d arrived on delsin’s doorstep he’d been little more than a bloodied mess, but he’d survived. that had been a few months ago, and after he’d healed enough (he was still far from recovery, but at least he wasn’t in danger of infection anymore) they’d moved out of the city and back to delsin’s home, both of them in desperate need for a change of pace and a chance of peace. while part of desmond still expected them to have to pack up and move in the middle of the night–he’d never stayed in one place for so long before–he’d come to appreciate the quiet life and the sense of home that he finally felt. 

with hard-earned grace, desmond silently made his way down the hallway and into the living room, subconsciously making sure to check every shadow as he moved to make sure there wasn’t someone lurking there, waiting to take this home away from him. instead of some lurking stranger, though, desmond was instead greeted by the sight of delsin sprawled haphazardly on the couch as he lazily flicked through the television channels. for the briefest of moments, a smile crossed desmond’s face as he simply studied delsin, quiet fondness in his expression. 

“look at that, sleeping beauty is finally awake,” delsin teased as he glanced over at desmond. “was starting to get pretty lonely out here, you really kept me waiting this time.” the warmth in delsin’s words outweighed any sort of tease, and before desmond could even consider responding, delsin had already scooted over so there was more room on the couch, a silent (albeit not subtle) request for desmond to join him. 

it was not an request that needed to be made twice; without any hesitation, desmond made his way over to delsin and shamelessly pressed himself against the other, entirely enjoying just how warm delsin felt against him. with a noise that was more a sigh than a huff, desmond lazily wrapped his arms around delsin, and felt quiet contentment flare within him when he felt the gesture immediately returned. 

“you should have woken me up,” desmond muttered against delsin’s side, “wasn’t supposed to sleep for that long.” ever since he’d almost died, desmond had found his sleep cycle fell into two categories: he either didn’t sleep (kept awake by nightmares and the fear that everything he had would be taken away from him again) or he slept like the dead, entirely unaware of the passage of time around him.

his words were met with a shrug. delsin was no stranger to desmond’s sleeping habits, he probably hadn’t woken him up because he knew desmond needed the rest. with a sigh, desmond absently rubbed a palm across delsin’s chest, only dimly aware of the quiet noise of the tv. a lot had changed since he’d stopped the end of the world. while he had been dealing with juno’s mess, delsin had been dealing with the augustine’s attempt to eradicate his entire family. neither of them had really talked about what had happened beyond what was absolutely necessary for the other to know, and both still bled at the slightest touch to wounds that had yet to start healing. as a result, things between them weren’t always the best. they argued, fought, and on more than one occasion someone had slept on the couch. 

they were trying, though. and in moments like these, when peace surrounded the both of them and desmond finally got the opportunity to simply be domestic with delsin, he remembered exactly how much he loved him. with a turn of his head, desmond absently pressed a kiss against delsin’s chest, and was rewarded from a content hum.

scarred fingers (on his good hand, as his other arm was still heavily bandaged) made their way up delsin’s chest, before desmond shifted so he could gently brush his fingers against delsin’s face, quiet fondness in the simple gesture. there were no ulterior motives in the actions, no underlying request for more; right now, desmond just wanted to sit and enjoy the moment.

immediately, delsin moved one of his hands off of desmond’s back to catch the hand on his face and press a kiss against it, contentment flashing in his russet gaze as he eagerly accepted the affection from desmond. 

the action was enough to draw a chuckle from desmond. shifting, he moved so he was sitting up a bit more–although he was reluctant to leave the comfort of their previous embrace–but didn’t pull his hand back from delsin’s grasp. instead, his gaze simply lingered on the conduit’s face, taking in his expression (warm, delsin’s gaze was so warm) before he leaned forward and kissed him. 

the kiss was brief, but eagerly returned. quiet delight flared within desmond as he felt delsin immediately return the kiss, and the affection in the action wrapped around him like a snug embrace during a cool morning. just as quickly as he’d started the kiss, desmond pulled back with a quiet laugh and again settled against delsin’s chest, a hum of laughter escaping him as he heard delsin’s quiet protest to the kiss being over so soon. 

“mhm. hey des, i wanna ask you something,” delsin murmured, his arms once again wrapped around the other, mind set at ease by the fact he knew desmond was absolutely safe in this moment. 

“yeah?” desmond asked.

“how’d you get that scar on your lip?” delsin questioned. it was something that he’d been curious about ever since he’d met the assassin, but had never had the time to ask about–granted, he likely would have been shut down if he’d asked earlier. part of him still expected the question to be blown off.

for several moments, desmond was silent, mulling over just how he wanted to answer that question. his immediate response was to dismiss the inquiry, to say something along the lines of “i don’t remember” or “it was a long time ago.” for some reason though, he hesitated. maybe it was because he didn’t feel the need to guard himself, maybe it was because delsin was one of the few people he felt comfortable telling anything to–whatever the reason, desmond realized that he didn’t want to just brush him off. 

“it was just a cut, really,” desmond muttered after a moment, his words careful despite his willingness to tell delsin the truth. “it happened back when i was still living on the Farm.” he didn’t miss the way delsin’s arms suddenly tightened around him, just as he didn’t miss the sudden tension that flashed through the other. he hadn’t told delsin much about his time at the Farm, but from what he had told him (especially what he’d told him about his dad) delsin had a pretty good idea of what life had been like before he’d run away. 

“it was an accident,” desmond murmured in an attempt to defuse the situation. it wasn’t exactly the truth, but that was a story for a different day. “it was raining, and the other assassins in training and i had been out since before daybreak. we were all tired, but my dad wasn’t satisfied, and kept pushing us. one thing led to another, and i ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. i don’t remember much. one minute i was on my feet, the next i woke up on the ground.” he remembered the feeling of blood running down his face, startling hot compared to the cold rain that had been previously battering him. he remembered the searing pain as his body had caught up with what had happened, and he remembered the ringing in his ears that had drowned out everything his dad had been yelling at him, but he didn’t remember exactly what had happened. maybe it was better that way, considering he didn’t want to remember anything that had happened at the Farm. 

“anyway, yeah. it was just a cut, and it was just an accident. no deep dark story about that one,” desmond said with a shrug, omitting the part of the story where he had had to keep practicing despite the fact he’d been injured because his dad hadn’t seen the point of sending him inside. something about how getting injured was bound to happen, and if he wanted to survive, he had to learn how to ignore the pain and keep going. he didn’t talk about it because he didn’t want to remember it, and because he knew it would just upset delsin.

to his credit, delsin didn’t push the subject any farther. there was more to the story–he knew there was–but desmond had already said more than he expected him to. to push him any further wouldn’t accomplish anything other than an argument. with a sigh, delsin forced himself to loosen his arms around desmond (he’d been tightening his embrace around him without realizing it) and once again rubbed his hands up and down desmond’s back, taking comfort from feeling the other against him. 

“you’d better hope i never meet your dad,” delsin said after a few moments, barely able to keep his voice from growing sharp with distaste. 

“yeah, yeah, i know,” desmond murmured, a slight exhaustion to his words. “but everyone thinks i’m dead now, so i doubt that’ll ever be a problem. not like they’re going to come looking for me here. it’s in the past, del.” he didn’t want to have another argument–he was too tired for it right now. as wave after wave of exhaustion battered against desmond, he found himself unable to keep his eyes open anymore, and instead opted to bury his face into delsin’s chest with a deep sigh.

“anyway, mystery solved. sorry it wasn’t more entertaining. something with a bit more action maybe. a romantic sub plot,” desmond joked, his voice thick with sleep. “some sort of daring escape on my motorcycle maybe. me racing through the city, counting down against some sort of clock–you know, all those tropes that are in pretty much every action movie.”

his words were enough to coax a laugh out of delsin, the sound genuine albeit slightly hushed. 

“go back to bed, romeo,” delsin joked, having caught just how tired desmond sounded, “your life is already enough of a bad action movie. don’t need to repeat it–once you wake up, we can skip to the whole “making out with the love interest” part.”

“mhm. what if i want to do that now?” desmond questioned with a laugh, fully aware of the fact that he wouldn’t be awake much longer despite his playful words.

“it’s kinda insulting when someone falls asleep when you’re trying to make out with them,” delsin commented, “kind of a turn off, too.”

“fine,” desmond grumbled, though there was no genuine grump in his voice, “but i’m not getting up. you’re gonna be stuck here until you wake me up. and then i’m going to take you up on that offer.”

if delsin responded to his comment, desmond didn’t hear it. unable to fight off the waves of blackness that had been trying to consume him for so long, desmond fell asleep sprawled across delsin’s chest, the warmth and comfort from simply being around the other stronger than his desire to stay awake. 

desmond miles didn’t like talking about himself. and yet, for delsin, he had let down his walls long enough to share a story he hadn’t shared with another soul. maybe it was because delsin made him feel safe, made him feel like letting down those walls wasn’t so scary, or maybe it was because they’d been through so much he knew the only option was honesty these days. whatever the reason, one thing was clear: when it came to delsin rowe, desmond was willing to do nearly anything.

love was funny like that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at noizisms.tumblr.com


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